


Alex's Journal

by WatariENT



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Romance, Spiritual, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatariENT/pseuds/WatariENT
Summary: In the Autumn season of 2013, Arcadia Bay saw a storm that nearly wiped out everything in the area, leaving almost nothing to look at. 2018 comes around and Alexis "Alex" Baker is an isolated seventeen-year old student of Blackwell Academy who was made a victim of that very storm. Her life starts moving at an unsettling pace when she is forced to fix the broken relationship she once had with her best friend, Jessica Thomas, and is approached by a mysterious hawk that sends her head first into Arcadia Bay's many secrets.





	1. Back to the Beginning I

**Author's Note:**

> Episode One takes it's name from the song "Back to the Beginning" by Aaron Espe. The song acts as the "ending montage" for the episode, which will have a total of 12-13 parts.

I couldn't be in there. I couldn't be in that place at the moment -- not in his condition. This wasn't anything new though. I'd often find myself drifting outside every other day or so because I just couldn't stand the thought of being at home. 

To most people, Oregon always gets pretty cold at night around this time of year, but I'd never feel like that. Not much anyway. 

It was a bit chilly, I could admit that, but I always had a high cold tolerance. My mom and dad would always try to get me to wear a scarf in this time of year. 

I always told them I never needed it and I always ended up proving myself right. They were too old and weren't from Oregon. 

In fact, they weren't even from the United States. Both of my parents were from the Caribbean, so naturally, their tolerance of the cold was nonexistent. They could never understand how I could handle the cold so well. 

The easiest answer to that was that I was born in this time of year over in the Bronx, but moved here -- Arcadia Bay, Oregon when I turned ten. 

My dad however was Jamaican and my mom was Dominican. Now a lot of you probably looked at "Dominican" and thought of "Dominican Republic"--and that's fine. Ya'll wouldn't be the first. 

No, my mom is strictly "Dominican". Commonwealth of Dominica. 

So no, I don't speak any fuckin' Spanish. Let's just clear up those misunderstandings right here and now.

 I've gotten too many people in my school years come up to me and automatically started speaking Spanish because of how I looked. 

I take after my dad in terms of skin color but thankfully I take my mom's appearance. Despite being Jamaican, my dad has very light skin, and people often mistake him for being of Spanish speaking culture. It goes without saying that this always pisses him off. 

Just like it pisses me off when people ask where my parents are from and I tell them "Jamaica and Dominica" and they look at me and ask "You speak Spanish?" 

No bitch, I speak English.  I said Dominica. "Do-mi-nee-ka". But I'm side tracking hard as hell right now. 

Fact of the matter is, I didn't want to be home. The reason is my dad is drunk and when he's drunk he's stupid as fuck and it's so off-putting that it's kinda depressing.

I hate it when he drinks. I've hated it for years but he never stops, and with Mom not around anymore to scold him, it's like he's intent on killing himself in hard liquor.

I never had the kind of energy to argue for very long, so I'd usually ignore him. Only this time, when I was back home a few hours ago, he'd come into my room constantly to check up on me.

 He always does this, but when he's drunk he's fuckin stupid like I said so he doesn't stop and I don't have any privacy in there. 

Not to mention my nose would burn from the liquor on his breath and he wasn't even close to me. That's how fucked up he was tonight.

Blasting reggae music and cussing to himself like a dumbass, I just really needed to be away from that bullshit. So here I am -- walking Arcadia Bay's streets in the middle of a school night. 

I walked out but I didn't really set out a plan. I didn't know where to go or what to do with myself and most stores are closed at this time of night. But Arcadia Bay's streets at night were so much more peaceful than the streets in the Bronx at the same time. At least where I lived at the time.

I used to live in the projects right in front of a basketball court and every night, going into the very early morning you could hear kids my age play basketball, screaming and carrying on with all the energy in the world. 

Only issue is, these kids don't know how to act. I looked out the window in curiosity one time and saw this dark skin, long and lanky dude fire off three shots into the air. It was the first time I had ever seen a gun fire.

I suppose I should've been panicked or surprised, but when I reached a certain age, I just lost all the energy I once had - the kind of energy that most kids. I'm talking about legitimate kids, not adolescent lazy teenagers.

Anyways, I felt like I could walk these streets without the need to turn my head every two minutes. I still did that anyway because that's how I've been programmed to behave on the street by my dad. Keep aware at all times. Not bad advice at all. It's not like Arcadia Bay is some utopia. You still have students going missing like that one Blackwell Academy girl a few years ago.

It just so happens to be the school I go to as well. I didn't keep up with the news about her disappearance. In fact, I don't even remember there being any news about her. I just remember seeing missing posters all over Arcadia. It sucks, but I have a hard time feeling bad for people or circumstances that don't involve me. That's how I've been for a few years now.

It's nothing personal or malicious. It's just I have enough on my plate without the thoughts and prayers for others who are suffering too. I guess you could call it selfish or self-centered & shit. I wouldn't blame you.

Like I said, it sucks, but how many of you can watch the news when a national tragedy occurs and stand there in shock? How many of you actually stop what you're doing to say a prayer for them? Is it unfortunate? Yeah, obviously, but bet any amount of money you want that you're there cookin up breakfast or doing something that's taking your attention away from the news.

If you criticize me for not really caring about the life of a stranger as opposed to my own issues while you're occupied by the chores in your own house over a national tragedy, that makes you a hypocrite my friend. But I'm not trying to get into all of that moralistic nonsense. I'm a seventeen year old girl - what the fuck do I know about morals and politics? Probably less than I should, I'll admit. It's whatever though.

I came to a complete stop on the outside of a corner store. Looking at magazines or something could help pass the time so I decided to step in. 

I just hoped that the store clerk didn't have some kind of disdain for teenagers lounging in his store. I'd understand the issue, but that'd also fuck up my already bad night.


	2. Back to the Beginning II

I entered the store but it was completely empty from my angle. Obviously the clerk was right there behind the counter I had my hands in my sweater pocket and walked over to the magazine section. 

I probably looked a little sketchy like that, but I wasn't wearing anything much to come off as suspicious. 

It turned out I wasn't alone in the store, as I could hear the door of the cooler in the drink aisle open and close constantly, but I wasn't curious enough to check who it was. It wasn't my business.

I searched through the different magazines on the shelf. Most of it was just celebrity drama or slice of life bullshit. Things like what are the Kardashians are naming their goldfish and shit like that. 

Cuisine magazines, fitness magazines, these are the kinds of shit you'd see in your local pharmacy, it was that boring.

I went down the aisle to see if there was anything,  _anything_  at all worth checking out to pass the time. I came across a manga magazine at the very end of the aisle that was hidden by more pop culture bullshit. That in itself was blasphemous to me. 

I took it out and it ended up being a "Shonen Jump" magazine. It was the only one here, so I was confused if it were actually ordered, or if someone had bad luck and misplaced it. Whatever the reason was, it was mine now. For the moment at least.

The front cover had multiple Shonen Jump heroes on it. Naruto, Luffy, Ichigo, all of them. Faces that I recognized among those three were also there, but could never get into. Manga like Toriko. No hate on that, but I could never get into it.

I did smile a bit though. I felt like I could finally just relax a bit. I didn't exactly read any of the chapters that were int he magazine, but I did skim through stuff. 

I did remember that there was someone rummaging through the cooler for drinks though. I did go all the way down to the end of the aisle, so I heard everything much easier now. It had been a few minutes now actually that the person had been in the coolers.

I stopped assuming it was a customer and just thought it was a worker reloading the coolers with drinks for the day time. Sure enough I was right on the money as the girl working there walked passed me, but not before looking at me and I looked back. 

I was right on the money but I didn't expect it to be this girl. She was my school mate I guess you could say.

An attractive girl with black, long hair and brown eyes and fair skin just like me. She wore the store apron, but dressed fashionably underneath, still protecting herself from the cold though.

This was Jessica Thomas. I knew her, I guess. She knew me too. When she walked passed, she sort of hesitated and went right back to what she was doing.

Long story short, we don't get along. We used to be friends. Best friends in fact, but that shit didn't last forever like we thought it would. 

When she looked at me it really looked like she was judging me and that sort of annoyed me. I wanted to confront her, but it wouldn't make any sense. I've had enough of arguing. I simply don't have the strength to do anything like that anymore.

That said, I felt too distracted by her presence to continue reading. Even more so considering she was only a few steps away from me packing drinks into the cooler right behind me.

"You still read that kinda shit?" She said to me.

Did I hear her right? Did I hear her at all? Did she really just initiate conversation with me, and of all things to say, it was something like that? Not that it's surprising for her to belittle me. It's just I fully expected her to ignore me. 

We're schoolmates so it's impossible to not see her around Blackwell, but we never talk. We don't even acknowledge each other.

I turned my head slightly. "Do you have a reason to care about what I read?" I asked her.

"Working the night shift in this shitty store in silence is drop dead boring. So, humor me."

I didn't feel like giving her that satisfaction if it was just gonna come at my expense, but I didn't wanna go home yet. "Why're you even here at this time of night? No boys to ride on?"

"Fuck you."

"You wanted to talk, right? Let's talk."

I didn't know where this conversation was going. None of it was hostile. I don't think it was anyway.

"I need the money," She said. That didn't make sense to me.

"The fuck for? Don't your parents spoil you?"

"Would I be here if that were the case, Dumbass?"

"The hell do you need the night shift for? You live in the dorms."

"Quit grillin me for answers. I don't owe you any explanations."

"Whatever."

"Don't tell Principle Wells you saw me here, got it? I'm not supposed to be out of the dorms this time of night."

"I could care less about where you're supposed to be and why. I don't need you or any of your groupies all over me at school."

"Good," She said a bit relieved.

That was the end of the conversation. She moved on to the next cooler with the crate of drinks and started packing. 

It's nothing new - the fact that my dad drinks himself to stupidity every other night. The fact that he blasts his reggae music as if we don't live in a small apartment complex. 

It's annoying, but it was the life I was used to. I was oblivious to the issue when I was a kid, but as I grew, I naturally understood the damage his alcoholism was doing to himself and the family.

My mom stressed over it constantly. Always tried to get him to quit and he knew she was right. Problem was, he just didn't like hearing it. He still doesn't. He's never one that likes to confront the problems that  _he_  faces, yet is so quick to bring up everyone else's flaws.

Even I tried to talk some sense into him sometimes, and he'd always say he would do better, only to go back to the same nonsense after a few days, as if me or Mom magically forgot the discussion.

Part of why he drinks so often is because back when I was five, he got into a car accident on his way to work very early in the morning that almost took his life. 

He's had a disability ever since and can't walk without feeling intense pain in his foot and back and must use a cane anytime he has to go out. I feel like this burden has fucked him over on the inside.

I mean, he was still an alcoholic before that, but it feels like if he were to have an excuse for it, this would be it and it would be legitimate. I pondered that thought for a while as I drank my soda. Of course with Mom gone, he's been even worse. If there were ever a reason now, it'd almost definitely be her. That thought sort of depressed me more than I already was.

I drank more of my soda and looked up to the night sky for a few minutes. Tonight was a full moon and it was big and bright. This was something about Arcadia Bay that we never got in New York City. You can see the stars so clearly here and the light from the full moon was almost blinding. 

The moon was behind a light post that seemed to be broken because it wasn't shining any light and on top of that post was a hawk, postured to the side, literally creating an epic silhouette in front of the moon.

It was a curious sight so I decided to pull out my phone to snap a picture of it. I thought it'd make a cool wallpaper. 

Since everything was silent in the street except for the sea, you could basically hear the snapping sound effect from the phone and the hawk looked down on me, but didn't move. Spending most of my life as a city girl, I didn't know what to expect.

Did I threaten it? Startle it? In New York we only get pigeons and other species of bird I don't know of. There'd be one falcon I'd see a few times every spring and summer time though. That was an epic bird. 

My dad saw it tackle a pigeon and eat it right next to the neighboring building we stayed at before. To me, birds are a funny breed of animals, especially the way they always snap their neck to look at something.

I took the picture, but I guess the hawk didn't really care. Must've just heard the sound of the snap and got curious. But I decided to make it my wallpaper. 

If nothing else, one cool thing came out of this little time out. I caught a cool piece of imagery. I drank the last of the soda since it wasn't a big bottle and threw it in a near by trash can.

I had zero hope that my dad went to sleep, but I couldn't stay out forever. I had to get to Blackwell in the morning, so I decided to walk back home and just call it a night.

Yeah, he might be drunk out of his mind, but at the very least, he lets me sleep when I wanna fuckin sleep. This walk did kinda made me drowsy anyways.


	3. Back to the Beginning III

I felt something nudging me just barely. Where was I anyway? I was in my bed. I could tell because I buried my face into my pillow which had the scent of my lingering hair spray. I didn't take a shower last night, I just passed out on my bed after undressing. It was cold too. I could always tolerate the cold going outside, but inside, I can't. Mainly because I always kept my air conditioner on even though it's cold outside.

I don't know about houses, but if you live in an apartment complex, even if it's small like this one, when they turn on the heat, it can get very uncomfortable at night. So I always leave it on at night, but still dress very lightly while being smothered in blankets. I'm an awkward girl when it comes to being comfortable trying to sleep. But anyway, I had buried my face in my pillow and put more covers over me when I could hear very faintly a man's voice calling out to me while nudging my shoulder.

It had to be Dad. Despite having rough nights, he'd be the first one up and about getting everything ready for my day. But it was cold. I didn't feel like getting up. Plus I didn't sleep until about four in the morning. It's been, like, two hours? Maybe?

"Alex get up," Dad commanded. "Yuh don wan fi put a little knowledge inna yuh brain?" He said in his accent. He basically asked me if I wanna stay home and grow dumber by the day. I rose up and sat up in my bed, with sheets still covering me. "Alex, mi keep on tellin yuh fi put on long sleeve shirt. Yuh cyaan stay under the cold room and nah ave some'um fi protect yuh chest from di cold," He scolded. "You wan catch pneumonia?" He added.

"I forgot," I answered.

"You cyaan forget dem kinda ting deh," He replied. "Dangerous practice dat."

I yawned as I listened to his hard patois enter one ear and go out the other. "Tea comin. Set yuhself up."

"Alright," I said, still yawning. This was the kind of morning we had almost every time. If I didn't wake up on my own, he'd come in to wake me up. If I was under the cold AC all night with no long sleeve shirt or double layers of clothes to protect my chest from the cold, he'd scold me about it. If you have Caribbean parents, this was the kind of morning you'd have every time, especially if you were born a citizen in a cold climate. They don't understand that us young blood are just naturally built to not give a fuck about the cold.

Fuck's sake, I was born in the dead of Winter. The day I was born was like sixteen degrees on the weather forecast. True shit. This time though I was pretty cold. I only had on a tank top and shorts. No socks, nothing. It was pretty damn cold. I struggled to find the AC remote that was somewhere hidden under all the wrapped up sheets. I eventually found it and turned it off and stretched as hard as I could after giving a few more yawns.

I looked around my room for a second. White walls all around and white ceiling. A brown wall unit with a flat screen TV on top of it and a small mini fridge I collected from my grandmother's residence after she passed away. My room was small. Very small. Mainly because I had a queen size bed that took up most of the space, but even then, this room was easily the smallest next to the kitchen, if that even classifies as a "room". No matter which way you look at it, it's definitely not the type of room you'd expect from a seventeen year old girl.

I heard the spoon cracking on every side of the glass that my dad was making my mint tea in, in the kitchen, preparing to bring me my mug. I always slept with my phone on my bed so I felt around the bed to see where it was cause it usually gets lost when I roll around at night. When I found it I saw the wallpaper of the hawk that I took a picture of last night.

Something about the hawk felt familiar in a different way but I couldn't place my finger on the reason. I usually charge my phone the night before, but considering I passed out as soon as I came home, I didn't get the chance, so my phone was teetering on thirty percent. I got up, still a bit cold and stretched so hard that I felt light headed and lost some balance, but gathered myself shortly after.

Dad came back in the room with my tea and placed it on my vanity table. "Don mek it get cold," He said to me. I nodded and found my charger still plugged to the outlet, so I just took the cord and attached it to the phone. I had initially wanted to check the time, but the hawk wallpaper distracted me, so I took that time to check and found out I was running a little bit late.

Not late enough to miss any classes or anything, I don't have much classes anyway. But I usually wake up around six or half past six. Scratch that, my dad usually wakes me up around that time, if I can't manage it myself. It was nearly 7:30 now. The only reason I could think of as to why he didn't wake me up earlier was because he couldn't. He more than likely slept in too due to hangover.

The mug was still hot, so I took that time to step out of my room to go wash my face. The bathroom was right next to my room, which has it's pros and cons. The pros are pretty damn obvious, but the cons are a little graphic. My dad tends to leave the door open when he has to take a shit, so naturally with the way laws of physics work and shit, that smell gotta diffuse somewhere and naturally comes underneath my door. If for some miraculous reason I don't smell it, chances are I'll fuckin hear it.

Fucked fact number 347: When middle aged people shit, it always sounds wet.

If I grossed you out or caught you while you're eating something, fuck your feelings. This journal's uncensored. Sorry, not sorry.

I went into the bathroom and looked at my face. I was visibly tired and there was drops of water splashed onto the mirror from the sink when it was on high. My face looked a bit distorted by that. I'm sure there's some symbolic shit there, but now wasn't the time to start thinking anime logic. I washed my face and wiped the excess water with my wet hands, looking at my disheveled, short, brown hair and used the water from my hands to straighten it a bit. Obviously I had to take a shower anyway, but I had to drink my tea first.

I dried my hands and went back into my room and picked up my tea mug. Before I could take a sip though, I heard Dad call me from the kitchen while he was washing the plates that he left last night. I sipped my tea and walked out, leaning on the white wall beside me standing just outside of the kitchen. "Yeah?" I asked.

"Yuh ave money fa school?" He asked me. I honestly didn't know. I bought a drink last night, but I don't remember checking to see if I had any more.

"I should," I answered.

"Mek sure yuh know."

"Lemme go check now." I put the tea mug on the kitchen counter to go back into my room. I went into the pants I wore last night to see my wallet. I had only three dollars on me, which wasn't exactly enough for a meal at Two Whales Diner for lunch. "I have three!" I yelled to him, but he couldn't hear me, he had the sink on full blast. I walked back to him with the wallet and money at hand. He looked at me when I repeated myself.

"Tree yuh ave? Okay," He responded, finishing up. He washed and dried his hands and told me to stay put where I was. I put the three I had back in my wallet and picked up my tea mug again and started drinking. It was still hot, but at this point, it was cool enough to start gulping. I have a high heat tolerance when it comes to drinks, but I felt the heat in my stomach after I finished. I put the mug in the sink but didn't have time to wash it because I had to get ready.

Dad came back with a ten bill at hand for me. "Thanks," I said while taking the bill.

"Yuh gonna ave a showa?" He asked. I nodded. A shower wasn't the best idea since I was running late, but I had to meet with my guidance counselor anyway. I don't have early morning classes, so I had some leeway.

"I'm meeting with Ms. Hall today for my first few periods. I'm not in any real rush to come outta here," I told him.

"Okay den. Do yuh ting," He said with understanding. It may sound like we're distant, but that's really not the case. When he's hungover he's not as happy looking as he usually is in the morning time and definitely not as talkative. He's actually more of a morning person unlike me or my mom was. But even then he doesn't really joke or smile as much as he used to when Mom was still here.

Walking back into the bathroom, I removed my top and closed the door behind me and then took off my shorts. I looked at myself in the mirror for a second. A part of me had been jealous of Jessica's body for a while. It's not like I was too fat or too skinny or anything. It's just that Jessica was a bit more developed for her age than I was, and I'm older than her, though just a few months apart. She had curves where it mattered, so that naturally made her vagina a part of the boy's most wanted list at school. And it's no secret to say she's been caught a few times already. News spreads faster than wildfire in Blackwell.

That said, I was jealous of her body, but at the same time, the negatives outweighed the positives in this case. I could do without all those blatantly creepy stares. I don't know how she does it really. I felt like I still had a good body, but milk and makeup did wonders for Jessica, I guess. To be perfectly clear, she didn't have anime features or anything like that. But looking at her tits, I'd guess her bra size was DD and you could always here guys at school talking about her ass and what they'd do with it.

I stepped into the tub and spent probably seven minutes total in there before coming out. Usually I spend more than half an hour in there because the water always feels too fuckin good to come out, but I still had to be in at a certain time to have my attendance taken on entry of the building. Or else it becomes a big unorganized thing where I have to tell the front office that I'm in but the person that does attendance is not at her desk and I have to either wait or track her down or go to someone else to take the attendance for me. I did all of the above one time. No seriously. Fuck the system.

I dried off and wrapped the towel around me and went back into my room and found some clothes and laid them out on the bed. The only thing to do now was choose the outfit. I was never the most fashionable girl in the world. I don't wear makeup, nail polish, and I fuckin hate high heels. I see bitches all the time walk around in those things and some of them look like they're about to tear their goddamn Achilles tendon. You'll see that a lot in New York City. I consider myself more of a tomboy than anything else really.

Before I decided what I was gonna wear I fixed my hair. My hair was parted over my left eye, so most of my hair fell to the right side of my face while the lesser side was pushed behind my ear. It looked good. I looked good. And my hair was naturally curly, which I always loved about my hair. I took the clothes I decided to wear.

I wore black jeans with a white long sleeved shirt that had the picture of a hawk on it. I just couldn't escape hawks today I guess. and put on black boots. The jacket I was gonna wear was near our door to leave, which I was getting fixed to do. Before I left my room I took a gray beanie and placed it on my head. Then I took my bag and put it on my shoulder and closed my bedroom door behind me. I didn't make my bed or anything. Not like I was gonna have visitors today.

"I'm out, you see?" I yelled in the apartment trying to get Dad's attention.

"Oh, yuh ready?"

"Yeah," I answered seeing him get up from the couch watching the news.

I put my bag down and took up my jean jacket that was stitched to a gray hoodie. That was the design of the jacket and my favorite one to wear on cold days. I put the hoodie over my head slightly, took up my bag and waited for Dad to open the door for me. We exchanged kisses on the cheek as he said to me, "Tek care of yuhself. Watch yuh back."

"I will," I said with a slight smile, nodding.

"Call me when yuh reach," He said as I walked out the door.

"Okay," I answered.

Off to Blackwell Academy. What kind of day was I in for? I had no idea.


	4. Back to the Beginning IIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex heads off to Blackwell when she discovers something that isn't her business, yet again.

I had already missed the school bus somewhere around the time I was preparing to leave. To be honest, I completely forgot about the bus, but that's what happens when I wake up confused as hell. The question now was, how was I gonna get to school? To tell the truth, it wasn't like it was beyond walking distance, but it'd take about thirty minutes from my current spot outside of my apartment to the bottom of the hill from the school parking lot. Then I'd still have to walk up the road to the campus. Even in the cold, I'd be sweating pretty hard by the time that journey was finished, and having just taken a shower, I really didn't want to get covered in sweat before I even entered the building.

Not that I care much, but it's one of the more embarrassing things in the world to sit next to someone you don't know or don't really talk to and to look and smell like post-sex exhaustion, _without_ the satisfaction. For like a minute, I started to contemplate the idea of even going to school at all. I didn't even want to wait for the regular bus to be honest, because if you're a New Yorker, you know those sons of bitches take forever when you need them the most. There's not even a schedule to look at either.

"Fuck it," I said under my breath. I crossed the street from my building to the bus stop and waited. Where my place is there was a blindside that ironically you could see pretty clearly from across the street. I guess that wouldn't make it a blindside then, but that's besides the point. When I looked over there I saw a white RV parked behind my place. If the owner was trying to be discreet about it, well this was an epic fail to say the least.

Coming out of the RV I saw Jessica and this punk rock lookin older guy with dirty blond hair. Jessica was obviously dressed fashionably but warmly due to the obvious weather but the guy just wore a leather jacket and dirty jeans. He looked like he was in his mid thirties I guess. Like I said, it wasn't my business: Her business that is. But she didn't look too pleased talking with him. Actually that's wrong. It looked more like it was strictly professional, whatever they were discussing.

It wouldn't surprise me if she just got done sucking him off or something, but that ain't my business. It didn't look like that though because her hair still looked well did. We made eye contact with each other, unfortunately and she looked kind of taken aback my gaze. This was the second time in just a few hours that I caught her in some snake shit, so she's bound to feel flustered. She turned back to the dude and finished up their conversation. He went back into the RV and Jessica backed up so he could do reverse the vehicle. 

The guy took off, but not without making eye contact with me very briefly. It didn't feel malicious. It felt like one of those moments you catch something in your peripheral vision and take a quick glance. That kind of look. Then once again, it was just me and the lil' bitch from across the street. She glared at me while walking my direction. This is what I meant when I said the bus always takes forever when you need it the most. If the bus could've come right away, I wouldn't have to deal with her shit now. 

"Are you keeping tabs on me or something?" She asked, antagonistically.

"I live in the building you guys parked behind, calm your tits," I answered. 

"You saw me in the store and again just now. Why is it always _you? "_

"Would you rather risk one of your groupies or the principle finding out?"

"No, that's--"

"Then stop complaining. I told you last night: I don't give a fuck what you do. As far as I'm concerned, I didn't see shit," I said, taking out my phone and putting my headphones. I looked at my phone, scrolling through music to play to give her the impression that this conversation was dead to me.

"You're not planning anything, right?" She asked nervously. I looked at her while still holding my head downward toward my phone, gestured my phone her way and rose my eyebrows condescendingly. 

"Do you _want_ me to plan something with the dirt I have?" I genuinely asked. 

"If you even thi--"

"Then shut the fuck up and take my word for it."

"And how am I supposed to trust you? We both know you hate me." She was dragging this conversation longer than it had to be and it got unbearably annoying. 

"Don't act like the victim here."

"I'm not, I'm just saying--"

"Look, if you wanna stress over this, that's totally on you. Instead of pressing me to keep quiet, why don't _you_ act more responsibly. That way, 'Bitch-faced Alex' won't have to catch you doing something you don't want other people to see." Jessica was quiet. "I don't care what you do, okay? I stopped caring a long time ago," I ended, putting my headphones back on. Her eyes wandered aimlessly to the left, as if admitting defeat with silence. She actually looked a bit uncomfortable. Whether or not it was because she was still unsure if I would keep her secrets a secret didn't matter to me though. She was quiet. That's all I cared about.

With her silence looking like it would be for good this time, I played the song ["Caterpillar" by Mountains of the Moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpzYWrQ7J3Q) low in my ears and put it on repeat. I never play music too loud in the street. I like to pay attention to my surroundings. I also never like to have my music shuffle through my playlist. There's something about that, that really triggers me. I play my favorite song and then it goes to another song I want no part of in that moment.

About seven minutes or so later, I finally saw the bus coming from around the corner. I didn't have any bus fare so the best I could do was hope the driver didn't kick me off if I asked for a ride. Obviously it was only Jessica and I at the stop, but we kept distant. I was gonna let her get on first. The bus came to the stop and opened the door, allowing two passengers to come out. Jessica got on and paid her fare. I came up to the driver and asked, "May I have a ride?" 

The asshole shook his head and pointed out the door. "C'mon man, I'm already late." I wasn't initially planning to push the argument farther than a simple acceptance of the answer "no", but I wasn't gonna walk. If he wasn't gonna take me, I wasn't gonna go to school. Simple as that. Not like it was his issue, but that was what I decided. The driver was white with a stern looking mustache. It's always those types of drivers that give you the most shit. I didn't wanna hold up the bus, so I quickly searched all my pockets for whatever I had. 

"It's not everything, but this is all I got. Can't ya just take this?"

"All or nothing, sorry." He said. His voice was raspy. The kind of voice I hated the most. Sounded full of phlegm. I kissed my teeth and was about to exit the bus. 

"I'll pay it," I heard from about the middle row. It was none other than Jessica, walking up to the front of the bus with an extra bus fare. I looked at her hand as the coins trickled into the machine of the bus. She looked at me before smiling slightly and moving back to her seat. The driver closed the door behind me and began to drive off before I could comprehend what had happened. I held the railing to prevent myself from falling and walked into the aisle of the bus. Jessica and I made eye contact again, even though we tried to avoid it.

"Thanks, I guess," I said under my breath, but loud enough for her to hear me. She nodded without much energy. I didn't focus too much on it after the moment has passed. Knowing her, she probably did it to save her own skin. She still thinks I might tell people what I saw. I sat a few seats behind her on the other side of the bus and turned up my headphones to let the song really ring in my ears before resting my head on the window and watching the scenery pass by me. I was still so tired, but the ride to Blackwell wasn't gonna take much longer than ten minutes. 

Resting my head on the window was doing me more harm than good though. Before I realized it, I was sleeping.

 

 


End file.
